


Dropped

by MeansToOffend (goodmorning)



Series: Pick Me Up [31]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017-2018 NHL Season, M/M, Pick-Up Lines, Washington Capitals, actually a lot of nhl seasons which i'm not going to tag but it's been over a decade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorning/pseuds/MeansToOffend
Summary: "Standing on the stage at the draft is different."





	Dropped

The first time Sasha sees Nicklas, he _wants_. 

It’s not the first time he’s looked at Nicklas, of course. There’ve been more than a few international tournaments; for instance, Sasha knows well that they were both at the last World Championships. But he hadn’t _seen_ Nicklas there, except in the same way he sees every competitor; just another body to get past on his way to the goal. 

Standing on the stage at the draft is different.

This isn’t only because he’s terrified to make the announcement. It’s also because, when he does, Nicklas gets up and comes right to him. And Nicklas is everything Sasha likes best. It’s not just his ass - though Sasha will freely admit this is one of his favourite things about hockey. No, it’s also his hair - long enough to tangle fingers through, short enough not to get in the way - and his face, innocent-young-Swede soft but with eyes so hard and suspicious Sasha wants to kiss him right then just to see what he’d do. He’s always been attracted to people who are naturally wary of others because he, himself, is very much the opposite.

“Hej,” says Nicklas, offering Sasha a hand. “So you’re my winger, then?” He speaks better English already than Sasha probably ever will, and his accent is as smooth and soft as his face.

“Yes, I hope,” Sasha replies, probably a little late, with a smile that’s probably a little goofy. But there it is; he’s in love already, he can’t help himself.

\---

It takes Nicke the better part of a season to be convinced that Alex is genuinely as open as he seems to be.

That said, it takes Alex the better part of just three weeks to convince Nicke to sleep with him. At first, Nicke is annoyed with himself for this, though that doesn’t stop him from doing it again (and again, and…). Then he finds he’s accidentally figured out just how Alex does it: Though he trusts almost everyone without question, there’s a tiny personal core to him that he protects behind the same jokes and misdirections that make him seem so jovial and relaxed to begin with.

This is also when Nicke learns that anyone who _really_ gets under Alex’s skin stays there: when Alex begs him to stay the night with just a look and a touch, when he murmurs soft Russian against Nicke’s hair as he wakes, when ‘Ovi’ constantly seeks out ‘Backy,’ orbiting around him during every idle moment of every practice.

Possibly, too, this is when he discovers that Alex, for all his dodging and laughing and subject changing, for all his protection of personal privacy, is still achingly open in one way: he wears his heart on his sleeve, and right now it pulses “Nicky, Nicky, Nicky,” with every beat.

\---

Sasha knows that Kolya thinks someone will figure them out sooner than later, but he’s clearly never done this sort of thing before. Of course, Sasha hasn’t either, in an English-speaking locker room, but he guesses this will actually be easier. North Americans tend to have strange ideas about Russians, things like “weird” and “loud” and “utterly lacking in personal space” and “constantly wandering around naked”; Sasha has always played these up anyway, because it’s fun and it pisses off the commentators, and he sees no reason to stop now. The Russians who come and go from the roster, meanwhile, might guess he’s hiding something, but the reality will be far from the likeliest of their thoughts. Besides, they might not guess; as a superstar they might expect him to be eccentric in some ways.

And indeed Vitya and Syoma and Seryoga never seem to suspect. Sasha Semin, however, sees right through him, which would be a worry but for the fact that he clearly doesn’t care. He treats Sasha the same way he always has, besides the occasional wink-nudge treatment that comes with being on a team.

Being Sanja, then, feels like the least he can do to repay it.

\---

None of the Russians on the roster seem to know how to interact with Nicke at all. He appreciates this, though he doesn’t really understand it until he comments on it one quiet morning, with the sun soft through the window, half-hidden by clouds. Alex, a silhouette against it, looks at Nicke, and Nicke knows him well, now, can picture his expression just from the languid way he props himself on one elbow, strong smooth lines of him half under the covers.

“We live with ice, we play on ice, Nicky,” Alex says. “We run hot. What to do with someone who act like ice, look like ice…”

“Ah, so that’s why you find me so interesting,” Nicke teases, faking a frown, and then he has 220 pounds of still-new captain laying on top of him.

“No,” Alex says, serious as Nicke has ever seen him. “I like the ice, but what is under, I love.”

And after years of whatever this is, the words surprise Nicke so much it’s all he can do to manage, “I love you, too.” 

Having focused so much on the Russians, though, means he’s unprepared for the North Americans - or one specific one, anyway. There’s a young Canadian goalie who keeps getting called up, and every time he looks knowingly at Nicke, a smile, a wink. Nicke refuses to confront him, or to ask Alex to, but nothing happens until after a particularly good playoff win.

Nicke is glaring at him, perhaps too hard, because the goalie wanders over. “I’m happy for you two, but I can pretend not to know if you’d prefer,” he says, kindly, and Nicke relaxes, all at once.

“Holtbeast!” Alex shouts, nearly tackling him, and at this all Nicke can do is laugh.

\---

Sasha would like to pretend that he knows everything about Kolya, that he can always tell what Kolya is thinking and feeling, but all too often, he doesn’t. Of course, he would never admit having doubts about anything, except to his mother, but it’s not as though anyone would believe it if he did, either. So it’s hard for him to ask Kolya what his plans are for the lockout, especially like this, hoping as hard as he dares for the answer he wants so badly, fearing too much that Kolya won’t give it.

But Kolya just looks surprised. “I’m going with you, of course,” he says, and though he draws in a breath to continue, Sasha has heard enough. By the time sentences come to them again, it’s been forgotten.

Kolya has a small disagreement with Moskva and the KHL, or maybe it’s he and Moskva on the same side against the league, but he refuses to tell Sasha anything about it. He ends up finding out against Vityaz, when Kolya skates out. The 69 is proud on his back and arms, his face unflappably Swedish when the rest of the team tries to chirp him for it.

“Backy!” Sasha shouts, at his loudest and most exuberant, and finds how much he really means it when he crushes Kolya in a hug.

“I knew you’d like it,” Backy says, long after the game, and proceeds to demonstrate just how true that is.

\---

Nicke knows Alex loves him, of course; it would be very hard for him to have missed by this point. On the internet, some of their fans have even started pointing out just how much Alex gravitates to him, though they don’t seem to see how much he gravitates back. But it’s when the team finally starts to notice that things begin to get weird.

Burky is the one who starts it, at team breakfast one morning. “Pass the salt, Papa,” he says, and Nicke has already handed it to him somewhat automatically before the last word registers. But though he sends some of his best glares in that direction, Burky just calmly sits there, eating his truly awful scrambled eggs like everything is completely normal.

“Papa, you help me with faceoffs?” Kuzy asks at practice two days later. But again, glaring doesn’t produce talking. It also doesn’t help make him better at faceoffs, unfortunately.

But, of course, none of it troubles Nicke too much - until Willy gets on the team bus, spots him sharing a blanket with Alex, and says, in his usual too-loud way, “Aww, it’s so nice to see Mama and Papa getting along so well!”

“What they do this time? Cuddle again?” Kuzy calls from halfway up the steps.

Burky peers over the row in front of them, wrinkling his nose and pretending to be disgusted. “Oh god, get a room already.”

Nicke is about to do something regrettable as soon as he can decide what, but Alex leaps out of his seat and says, “Yes, yes, keep teasing Mama Ovi, you get Papa Backy angry. I like Papa angry.” He flashes a smile and sits back down.

Someone, somewhere, makes a gagging noise, and Nicke punches Alex in the arm as sweetly and thankfully as he can manage.

\---

Ells puts them ahead with just seven minutes to go, and Sasha is determined to hang on to this lead with everything he has left in him. He keeps looking at everyone’s faces, finding the same determination on every single one. They’re so close now, closer than they’ve ever been, and if they don’t win this, he doesn’t believe they ever will.

The seconds tick down. The buzzer sounds. Sasha can barely hear it over his heartbeat, pounding in his ears. There’s a thumping on his back, too, and someone is screaming - _everyone_ is screaming, including Sasha himself.

He waits impatiently during the awarding of the Conn Smythe, vibrating like his dogs when he’s about to let them out. Kolya is watching him, smiling carefully; Sasha knows better than to do anything he wouldn’t approve of while he looks like that. So he waits patiently, pretends to be happy about the Conn Smythe, doesn’t grab the Cup from Bettman’s hands while he rambles on about hard-fought games.

But at last it’s in his hands, all shining silver and famous names, and as he hoists it above his head and skates his lap it feels impossibly weightless. He tries to skate slowly, to savor it, but his body is still full of adrenaline and his heart is always full of Kolya, and in no time he finds himself standing in front of him.

He suppresses the urge to kiss him, right there in front of cameras and commissioner and Capitals, and instead screams, “Yes!” in Kolya’s face, loud as he can, as Kolya’s hands come up to grip the Cup right next to his own.

And Kolya grins, screaming back, “Fucking right!” and, just for a moment, Sasha forgets to let go.

\---

The party in Vegas eventually has to end, or, to put it another way, it’s time to take the party home. The plane is actually fairly quiet after the first hour or so, with most of the team asleep or passed out; this much sustained celebration is impossible for anyone but Alex, and even he’s blearily slouched in his seat, T-shirt and shorts rumpled. Nicke, as ever, is being the responsible one, not only because he’s at least wearing a polo shirt, but because he’s spent the flight trying to help keep everyone hydrated and the garbage accumulation manageable.

As he heads back to his seat after his last trip, readying himself for landing, he’s holding only a water bottle for himself, though. “Nicky!” Alex calls as he walks by. “Wait, I think you drop something!” The water bottle is still in Nicke’s hands, of course, so he just looks at Alex patiently, pretending he’s not waiting for the punchline. 

“My jaw!” Alex grins, and Nicke smiles back, full of too much drink and too many feelings to name.

And, when they arrive, together they carry the Cup from the plane, back to the city they call home.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Finally this is done, just in time for hockey day! Please enjoy the following images in lieu of an actual note:  
> * [i love this gif a lot actually](https://twitter.com/NHLGIFs/status/991502610661339139)  
> * [h e l p](https://twitter.com/NBCSCapitals/status/999485268783697922)  
> * [H E L P](https://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/s--IYzSJvRH--/c_scale,f_auto,fl_progressive,q_80,w_1600/pgsbunktcvfbsc8bgwpk.jpg)  
> * [i have lost all ability to not cry](https://twitter.com/NHLonNBCSports/status/1004927092432211970)


End file.
